#Domestic Air Conditioning Systems

[machinavocis]

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[tekomarinellc]

Teko Marine in Dubai supplying and providing the domestic marine air conditioner, galley equipment, small appliances and others Marine products with Solutions overseas in the MENA region extending to Europe & Far East with the help of committed and professional team who have been in the electronics and Appliances industry in the UAE between 10 to 31 years each. All with very good reputation in providing solutions on our related scope of work. To get more information you can check here: https://tekomarinedubai.com/product-category/air-conditioning/.

[dragonroilz]

meet the female engineer! she's part of the conagher family, though not as involved in the kind of engineering that her uncle and great uncle were in. despite being a very gifted mechanic, she preferred more domestic endeavours like tuning cars and air conditioning units. however, the promise of wads of cash and possibly seeing her cousin Dell made her conagher DNA jump into high gear upon seeing the blueprints for the sentries for the first time.

the first question people often ask her is, "why the turtleneck?". the response from a less-than-human sounding voice often answers the question. thanks to an unfortunate "accident" she had her head lobbed from her shoulders and reattached. of course, such endeavors would be less than ideal for the normal person, but the engineer is known for her amazing inventions and with help from the medic she surgically reattached it. allegedly, not to her original body. at the very least, her back pain inexplicably went away after this incident. nervous system failure perhaps?

[spaceorphan18]

The Contessa (Polin Fic)

Rating: E for very explicitness

Summary: Colin returns home one evening to find Penelope reading his journal. She has some inquires about some undocumented time, and he tells the story of the infamous Contessa...

Notes: I've had this idea forever and just needed to get it out of my system. It's one part slice of domestic life, one part porn without plot, all of it full of love and emotions because how can you not with these two? There's a little pregnancy talk as it takes place in the months between the Butterfly ball and the epilogue.

For anyone wanting to read on Ao3 Here is the Link.

Thanks for reading!!

****

The Contessa

It’s evening when Colin arrives back at the house.  He shuffles through the door, flushed a little from the warm, late summer air, a little from the half bottle of brandy he and Benedict had finished off not an hour earlier.  It is still somewhat a foreign sensation -- leaving the family he had spent a happy afternoon with and the house he had grown up in to return to a place where the halls he now walks feels new and unfamiliar.  But it’s not a bad sensation.  In fact, he relishes the fact that he now has a place of his own.  A home.  A home for his own family. 

He grins, and it’s not just the alcohol that makes him a little dizzy. 

“Pen!” He calls out.  They spend a considerable amount of their time together but on days they’re apart, he’ll usually find her at the desk in the study.  Curiously, she’s not there.  “Penelope?” 

“She’s retired for the evening, sir.” Penelope’s hand maid, Rae, passes him in the hallway.  She points back to the bedroom. 

Colin furrows his brow.  His wife has been fatigued more often than not as of late, and it has had him concerned. “Is she well? Perhaps I should have stayed…” 

Rae holds one hand up, and shakes her head with a smile.  “She is fine, sir,” she assures him.  “And doing well for one in her condition. Besides, her mother was with her most of the day.  Nothing to worry about.  She only wanted the comfort of her bed for reading.” 

“Thank you, Rae,” he says, giving a nod to dismiss her.  

He isn’t entirely comforted.  Lady Featherington has been a source of contention recently; wanting to be at Penelope’s side more often than not.  Never in her life, Penelope has complained to him, has her mother shown her so much attention.  Perhaps it has to do with Prudence and Phillipa giving birth to two, sweet little girls that now Lady Featherington’s sights are set on her third daughter to produce the heir she so desperately desires.  And it would give Colin a slight sense of satisfaction if he and Penelope were the ones to bring that heir into being.  But Penelope’s comfort has always come first, and Lady Featherington’s unusual form of mothering is often too much.  He can only hope that she hasn’t pushed Penelope past exasperation.  

Colin is indignant as he enters their bedroom.  He doesn’t care that it’s evening, or that it might be seen as improper, he’ll head straight to the Featherington estate to give his mother-in-law a piece of his mind if he finds she’s been the source of his wife’s discomfort.  His emotions are easily bubbling to the surface but the minute he catches his wife’s reflection in the mirror, they shift from discontent and worry to… something else.  

He pauses, watching Penelope in the mirror.  After a day of being apart, his chest tightens at the sight of her.  She’s sitting, soundly, on her side of the bed, legs curled under her as she reads.  She is already in her pale, pink nightgown; her red curls down and resting gently against her bosom.  Her skin glows softly in the candlelight.  He has wondered that maybe after months of marriage if the deep desire he felt upon looking at her would eventually diminish or change but it has not and instead he has accepted that it will always be a part of him, always simmering in the back of his mind, waiting for an appropriate time to be unleashed. 

Penelope is too engrossed in her reading to look up.  He notes that it’s his journal that she’s reading so intently, a thought that brings a smirk to his lips, and he can’t help but wonder what part of his journeys has her so captivated.  She scratches a note in the margin, then continues reading, the feather of the quill lightly dancing teasingly against her lips.  He watches, mesmerized.  

“I can feel you staring at me,” she says, suddenly.  She doesn’t look up from her reading, taking the moment to jot down another note, but a smile climbs on her lips.  

Colin crosses the room, over to her side, bending down to give her a kiss on top of her head.  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to stare at one’s wife.  Especially, when that wife is as beautiful as you.” 

He goes to move away, but she pulls him back, looking up at him with that same mix of wonder and slight disbelief she gets whenever he compliments her.  “You are really too much sometimes,” she says, tugging him down for a quick kiss.  “I am ghastly.  Bloated with child.  Sweaty, swollen, and uncomfortable…” 

Concern crosses his face.  “Is there anything I can do?” 

“I think that you have done enough,” she says.  It’s a gentle tease.  Despite any worries he has, she seems in good spirits, tenderly cupping his face as she draws him in for another, quick kiss.  “Mmmm, you’ve spent a considerable amount of time with Benedict tonight.”

It’s the alcohol on his breath.  No denying that.  “He’s a nuisance, really.  Insisting that we celebrate Gregory going off to Eaton with cards and a drink.”  He moves away, sliding into the chair near the bed and begins unlacing his boots.  

“So he coerced you into it?” Penelope asks, her eyes bright with humor.  

“Of course,” he jokes.  He’s only half in jest about Benedict.  Lately, his usually free spirited, energetic older brother has become listless.  Colin is glad, at least, that Anthony is away in India, handing over the household duties, giving Benedict something to do. Otherwise, he worries Benedict would attempt to find his purpose at the bottom of every bottle.  He tells Penelope as much, but leaves out the part that before them, before her , he had felt the same way. 

“I’m sure Benedict will find his own happiness,” Penelope says, as if she can read his thoughts.  “But what of the rest of your family? Is your mother well?  How is Eloise? I feel terrible that we haven’t seen each other much in the past few weeks.  I do miss her.”  

“Mother is good,” he replies. He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the stand next to the dresser.  “Hyacinth sends her regards.  Eloise is… as Eloise always is.  She talked my ear off about some book that she said I must tell you about.  Some horrific novel about a scientist who creates the perfect man only for it to be a disaster.  She called it a literary masterpiece, and claims that you must pick it up when you have the chance.”  

“That sounds thrilling,” Penelope says, delighted.  “Will you be able to pick me up a copy?  Reading might be the only thing I can do soon, and one can never have too many books.” 

“If it is your wish,” Colin replies.  “It does sound like an absurd tale.  But that might be the way Eloise described it.  She’s always had a flair for the dramatic in her commentary.”  

“And that is why we adore her,” Penelope says.  “I think I’ll try to have tea with her at Bridgerton House.  The fresh air would be nice and I would very much like to get out of this house.” 

“But your condition…” 

“Is fine,” she lets out a laugh.  “I am not bedridden yet.  There is plenty I can do…” 

Her eyes remain fixed on him as he undresses.  He enjoys the way her gaze lingers as he casts off his layers, preening a bit as he unbuttons his shirt and discards it onto the chair.  Her eyes are wicked with want, and after a four day disruption due to her not feeling well, maybe they could return to their usual nighttime routine.  

Pen licks her lips as he approaches the bed, but continues with their conversation.  “It’ll have to be Thursday,” she says. “Friday, my mother wants all of us girls and their husbands for a dinner.”

His trousers remain on (for now) and he comes to the bed, flopping down on his back to stare at the ceiling, letting out a protesting groan as he does so.  “Are you sure we need to be there?” 

“You won’t be forced into conversation with my sisters,” Penelope says, reassuringly.  “You can spend time with Mr. Dankworth and Mr. Finch in the drawing room as you always do.  I promise to keep my mother busy so to keep the two of you apart.” 

He grumbles, turning on his side.  In truth, Albion and Harry have grown on him some.  They’re two of the biggest dolts he’s ever known, but they’re kind and amusing and seem to have embraced him as their leader in the secret club reserved for men who adore the Featherington sisters.  It’s charming, really.  And while he much prefers his own brothers, he’s well aware he could do much worse when it comes to brother-in-laws.  

“So, you mother…” he broaches the subject carefully.  Penelope’s relationship with her mother is fragile but mending, and he treads carefully.  “Was she too much for you today?” 

“She’s too much any day,” Penelope says, though her demeanor remains light.  “She just wants what’s best for me.  She did try to force me some horrid, green drink that’s supposed to manifest a boy instead of a girl.  I really doubt it, but even Varley was swearing by it.” 

“I dare say,” Colin says, “as much as I would revel in you having the heir to the Featherington estate, I would be pleased in having a girl, because it would annoy her so.” 

“Colin!” Penelope says, chiding him playfully.  

“Well, it would.” 

She rolls her eyes at him.  “Let’s move on from my mother.  You’re right, I have had too much of her today.  Besides, there’s something else I wish to discuss with you.”  She looks down to his journal, nervously playing with the pages.  

His curiosity is piqued, and he scoots closer, trying to see the page she’s on.  He can’t quite tell what passage she had been reading, and only sees a few words marked on the page here and there.  “What is it?” 

“I have been reading all evening,” she says.  He takes a beat of pride in how fondly she speaks of it.  “Your words are beautiful.  The way you talk about the moonlight shimmering on the Mediterranean sea; the bustle of Paris and Madrid and Rome; the shady, mysteriousness of the forests of Eastern Europe… It’s like I’m really there.  I can feel it.  Only, I’ve never even stepped foot outside of London.”  

He takes her hand, laces it with his own.  “I promise I will take you, someday.  I’ll take you to see the world.  Wherever you want to go.”  He kisses the top of her hand, as if to seal his promise.  

“I would love that,” she says.  She smiles but looks down at the journal.  There’s more she’s not saying.  “There’s something else that I noticed, though.  There are some dates that don’t quite add up.”  

“Oh?” 

She narrows her eyes, as if she’s hesitant about asking.  “Here you write about Rome, but then here,” she flips a few pages forward. “You are in Milan over a week later.  And yet you don’t speak at all of the journey.  Clearly it didn’t take a full week, did it?  What happened in that time that you do not wish to speak about?” 

He takes the journal, scanning it, wanting to refresh his memory, but there had been so much that had happened in such a short time, he could scarcely remember every detail.  

“Is that when you met her ?” Penelope asks.  He gives her an odd look, unsure as to who she is talking about.  “The Contessa.  I have read all of your journals now.  Twice.  And I haven’t read about her at all.” 

Oh .  He bites his lip to refrain from laughing.  Oh, his dear Penelope.  “How do you even know about her?” 

“Lady Whistledown hears everything eventually,” Penelope explains, she tickles his nose with the end of her quill.  “I have heard stories…” 

“Lady Whistledown…” he lets out an exasperated sigh as he takes the quill from her, and places it in the journal.  He snaps it shut.  “There’s not really anything to tell.”  

“You write extensively about your exploits in Paris, in Berlin, in… every city.  And you never mention her.”  She looks at him, unsure.  “Is the reason you don’t write of her… was she your first?” 

“No,” he says easily, reaching over her to place the journal on the nightstand.  “That experience was bought and paid for.  I have told you about that already - Rosalita...” He shudders to think of his first bumbling time.  Awkward and inexperienced and very short.  But at least she had been kind.  

Penelope’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “The Spanish woman! The one you said had the delectable bosom.”  

He grins, admiring her ability to recall such details, then leans in, giving her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, while he brings his hand up to cup her breast.  “Mmm, you know I can’t resist a delectable bosom.” 

“I will not be distracted so easily,” she says, it’s a playful warning.  “But how is it that you can boast about this Contessa to the entire male population of the ton and, yet, not tell me a single word about her?”  

He grins as he considers.  There is a reason he’s never shared this with her… And despite whatever she may have heard as Lady Whistledown, no one knows the actual story.  “Okay…” 

“Okay?” she stares at him, wonderingly.  There’s something special about the way she looks at him, so eager to hear any of his stories abroad, becoming especially attentive the more intimate in nature they are.  He once thought he’d never share such private thoughts with anyone, but she makes him want to open up, to share everything.  He could never really withhold anything from her.  Not even if he tried.  

He takes a moment to trace her forehead, her cheek, her chin, wanting to feel close to her.  He combs his fingers through her hair as he begins.  “She had red hair…” 

“Red hair?” she tilts her head in disbelief.  

“Orange-ish, really,” he says, with a small laugh, curling the end of her hair around his finger.  “Wild and fiery.  She was one of our hosts on the long trip from Rome to Milan, which did take nearly a week, now that you’ve got me thinking about it.  One of our horses had trouble and she kindly took us in.  It was a rainy night, but at least not a chilling one, and her cook made us the best stew I’ve ever had.  That evening, we stayed up to talk.  She was an impressive conversationalist.”  

“Oh, was she?” 

“She was,” he continues.  “She was a widow.  A young one.  But she knew things.  Had seen a bit of the world herself.  And I found her captivating.”  He cups her chin and uses his thumb to trace along her bottom lip.  He wants to kiss her. Wants to scoop her up and make up for all the days they’ve missed.  The desire he’s kept carefully at bay is coming front and center again, but he refrains.  

“So you talked?” 

“We did - late into the night.  The others, they one-by-one went to bed, but the two of us.  She said we had a connection and so I stayed.  And talked.”  

“Just talked?” It sounds like disappointment.  

He comes in close, cupping the back of her head carefully, as he whispers into her ear.  “There are plenty of things two people can talk about.”  

“Tell me.” 

He begins to give her feather-light kisses.  “The weather.”  He kisses against her cheek with a grin.  “Embroidery.” Another kiss against her jaw.  “The likelihood of winning at a game of cards.”   He travels down to her neck, but keeps his touch light.  

“Did you kiss her?” She asks.  

He pauses, breathing against her skin.  “I did.” 

“Show me.”  

He kisses her lips.  It’s gentle and tender and as easy as every fleeting kiss they’ve given each other over the past few months.  It’s not enough and he knows it.  

“Show me,” she says again, a harder demand.  

He kisses her harder this time, firm and strong and lingering.  It’s connecting and the heat of his desire begins to grow.  But it’s still not enough.  

“You’re holding back,” she challenges.  

“I am not,” he grins.  

“Don’t tease me,” she says, it’s almost a plea.  

“I assure you, I am not…” 

“Kiss me like you kissed her.” 

“I--” 

He can’t. As much as this had been almost a game between them, he realizes he can’t follow through with that request. Because kissing her is unlike kissing anyone else.  The gentlest brush of skin against skin lights his body aflame in the way that passionate kisses with anyone else does not.  

He pulls back to look at her -- really look at her.  The remarkable thing that he’s discovered since they’ve been married is that there are two of her.  Not her and Lady Whistledown, those are one and the same.  But there is the Penelope whom he fell in love with.  The one he’s always been in love with on some level.  The one who makes him laugh, who grounds him, who always has his best interests at heart.  His dearest friend.  

And then there is the other Penelope.  The woman who looks at him with those darkened eyes; whose lust for him is beyond anything he’s experienced with another partner.  She makes him feel raw and exposed and wanted in the most intimate of ways, even without the shedding of all their clothes.  And he wonders if he’s ever able to fully satisfy her hunger.  

“I cannot kiss you like her,” he says finally.  She looks at him confused.  “Because kissing you is an experience unlike any other.  Nothing feels as good as kissing you.” 

She gives him a proud look as she lunges at him, kissing him fervently.  And this… this is a kiss.  The world melts away, and there’s nothing but her, and her lips against his, her tongue sliding against his own, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer.  He deepens the kiss, feeling her everywhere.  

His own desire is becoming achingly apparent and if he had wanted to, he could end it all in a matter of moments, but he stops himself.  And pulls away, giving them a moment to both catch their breath.  

“This had to have happened after Spain,” she says, breathing heavily, still able to follow the narrative he had been laying down.  “And after France, as you visited Italy after both of them.  You’ve gained some experience by then, so I assume you did not stop with just a kiss.  Tell me, did she have a delectable bosom as well?” It’s her turn to tease, but she does so with the most sultry look upon her face.  

He admires her cleverness.  “Of course,” he gives, and tugs down on her nightgown, exposing her breast.  “As if I would settle for a woman with anything less.”  

He wastes no time latching onto her nipple.  She rakes a hand through his hair, encouraging him to kiss and suck and lick.  He reaches into her nightgown, to grasp at her other breast, squeezing it, causing her to moan and shiver under his touch.  

“I need more,” she manages to cry. 

He keeps his mouth firmly on her, sucking hard, as his hand travels underneath her nightgown.  Her legs fall apart, and he finds her wet and ready for him.  He’s soft at first, teasing where she would like him to be most, then pushes in with two fingers, while his thumb circles her most sensitive of spots.  She lets out a guttural groan that completely undoes him.  He never thought he’d be able to deliver such pleasure to someone else, but she closes her eyes and bucks her hips and lets him take control.  

He begins to kiss up her body as he works her, loving the fact that she has become so familiar to him that he knows exactly the right place to touch, the right pace to move, the right crook of a finger to push her over into release.  She is close, so close and all she needs is a little extra push.  “Let go, Pen,” he whispers into her ear.  “Let go, for me.”  

She screams his name as her release rips through her. He kisses her through it, wanting to feel her everywhere.  

He then pulls away, giving her a minute to come down, and he takes a moment to drink her beauty in.  Her hair is dark red across the white pillow, her breasts out and pink and raw where he’s kissed them.  Her nightgown is a knotted mess that he’ll have to untangle her from.  She has never looked more desirable.  

It doesn’t take long for her to sit up, intense and determined.  She pushes him back, giving herself a moment to free herself from her nightgown.  

“Did she touch you like you touched her?” she asks.  

He scoots back against the headboard, allowing her to undo his trousers.  “...Yes.” He lifts up, allowing her to pull them down and with a few kicks, he manages to cast them off.  

“Like this?” She wastes no time grabbing him.  It’s rough and the angle is awkward but he needs her touch.  

“Yes…” he gasps.  

“What about this?”  

“Penelope, you don’t have to…oh…” 

Her mouth is over him, sucking him down with a sense of determination he’s never seen from her before.  It’s almost too much.  

“Pen…” he says, almost losing himself over to the pleasure of it all.  “Pen, I need you to stop if…”

She pulls off, then straddles his lap.  “Did you lie with her like this?” 

“You really are still comparing any experience with…” 

“Did you lie with her like this?” she repeats. 

“No, but to be fair, we are sitting, not lying down.” It gets her to crack a smile.  “Are you sure you want to continue? Your condition...” he rubs a hand over her stomach.  “I don’t want you to push yourself more than you need to.”  

“Please do not speak to me as the mother of your child,” she says, staring at him deeply.  “Talk to me as your wife.  Your wife who needs you.”  

He nods.  “Okay…” 

They reposition some so he’s sitting on his legs.  She still straddles his lap, reaches between them to grab him, then lowers herself on him inch by delicious inch.  It is ecstasy feeling her around him, warm and tight. She begins to roll her hips, torturously slow.   He wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible, wanting to feel connected in every sense of the word.  She brings her arms around his neck, drawing in for a deep kiss as they rock together.  

They pull apart, and he watches her, lets her lose herself in her own pleasure, lets her use his body for her own needs.  His body aches for its own release, but there’s something beautiful, something satisfying about watching her come undone over him.  

He senses when she begins to tire, when her legs begin to give out and lifts her up to lie her down on the bed.  

“Are you still okay?” he checks in.  

She nods.  “Don’t hold back.  I want to feel it.  I want to feel you .”  

He doesn’t. 

He begins to piston his hips, pushing into her frantically.  She moans into his mouth as they kiss and touch and get lost in each other.  There’s nothing in this world that feels as good as her, as feeling deep in her, as if she’s fully encapsulated him and they are one and the same.  There is nothing outside this room, this moment.  Nothing but her.  His thrusts speed up, become more erratic, and it’s not long before he’s pushed over the edge, spilling deeply inside of her.  

“Colin!” she screams.  His name on her lips, needy and desperate makes him dizzy and he crashes their lips together for another long kiss.  

Coming down, he pumps his hips shallowly a few more times before pulling out. He reaches between them to feel her, to touch her, to let her have her second release that evening.  Her body spasms around his hand, wildly and unyielding.  She calls out his name again, as she clings to him, letting wave after wave of pleasure wash over her.  

He remains over her as they both settle, catching their breath.  She reaches up, cups his face, runs her hands over his arms, his chest, his back. Neither quite ready to be done.  He kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, sweet and gentle, just wanting one more taste before he rolls to his side, collapsing beside her.  

“Your time with the Contessa,” she says, “was like that?” She giggles as she says it.  

“Penelope…” he laughs, taking her hand, lacing their fingers together.  He doesn’t have to say it.  She knows. 

She shifts, curling up into his arms, cuddling against his chest. 

“Thank you,” she says.  Her voice is soft and sweet and the first Pen has taken over again.  “I needed that.” 

“I could tell,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  He remains quiet for a moment, holding her tight, enjoying the press of her body into his, the sweet smell of her scent she has after they’ve been intimate, the feeling of deep emotional connection that remains even after the physical connection has ended.  

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she says, a bit unexpectedly.  She looks up at him, her eyes bright and engaging.  

“Figured what out, love?” 

“The Contessa,” she gives him a grin.  “I know your secret.” 

“Oh?” 

“She does not exist,” she says plainly.  “You’ve made her up.”  

He gives her a smirk.  “Have I?” 

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Penelope says, as if it’s the most obvious answer.  “There’s no real woman with fiery red hair who happens to be a great conversationalist and has a delectable bosom and can satisfy you so thoroughly.  Not one in Italy, anyway.”  

He chuckles into her hair.  “Oh, I assure you, she is very real.”  

“Real in your imagination.” 

“Real in my bed.”  He leans down to kiss her.  

“What did happen in that missing week then?” she asks.  

“I did tell you,” he says, with a grin.  “We had to get a new horse.  And then stayed for days in the most boring lodge waiting for a storm to pass.  There was nothing to do but stare at the wall…” 

“And create a fake Contessa?” she teases. 

They share a laugh together.  

“Oh, how I love you, Pen.” 

“And I love you .”  

After all of his travels, after all the adventures, he’s glad he’s there now with Penelope; his love, his best friend, his home.  He snuggles her close as his eyes flutter shut, and lets sleep take over.  

[greycaelum]

Scribbles & Doodles— Coast & Altitudes: { Meddle }

—Mafia Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis: The pressure of giving your husband an heir is surrounding you like a vice, amidst it Satoru quells your heart.

𑁍 Genre: SFW: domestic fluff, traditional arrange marriage, hints of yandere if you squint,

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (2.3k)— fertility issues, meddling in-laws, angst-comfort, domestic life, talk of pregnancy and children [tell me if I missed something] Base on THIS request.

𑁍 A/N: Hi guys~ How are you? I finally managed to crawl out of my burrow, and here's a small step out of the writer's block, I hope you like it~ —Grey,

The clattering of plates and light chattering kept you on a constant edge. Gripping your utensils to hide the urge of hiding away from the weekly lunch with your in-laws. the food made by the family's chef tastes stale, almost like a powder on your tongue. It feels like you're going to have indigestion.

"Y/n, dear. How's the food to your liking?"

Minami, your mother-in-law smiled. Beside her Satoru's grandmother look at you with her stern eyes. Your eyes resisted the urge to look in your husband's way and answered as politely as you could.

"It's wonderful Mother." The honorific sounded so foreign it was almost unspeakable.

"That's good, here eat more. I can't have my beautiful daughter starve. You need to take care of your body or else how can I have grandchildren running around?" She lightly chuckled.

But your body only tensed at the sight of food on your plate that you could feel sweat starting to form on your temples despite the full-blast air conditioning system.

"Oh the two of you will make very beautiful babies I can't wait, right Y/n?" Satoru's grandmother added, but her eyes hold you in a rigid manner. "It's been a while since the two of you wed. Why am I still not seeing young ones?"

Make it stop. Their words repeated like a broken tape inside your head it's making your heart race. Their eyes are like daggers sheathed under their words. Perhaps their want for a child is genuine but they do not treat you no more than a broodmare.

"Don't start." It was a warning drawl. A large hand enveloped your cold palm, the callousness of the hand grounded you back to reality.

"Oh come on son your grandmother is right, it's been almost half a year. I still cannot see children running around. What's taking so long?" Minami sighed, and look at you for a long time. "Is it because you're too busy with work dear? You should focus on making a home than making more money you can't even spend."

His Grandmother added more salt to the wound, not giving you or Satoru a chance to speak.

"My grandson can provide for you Y/n, what more is there to busy yourself in this work you are raving about—"

"Mother, Madame I—" You breathe but your words died down at your husband's growl. A sense of relief and fear washed over you as he uttered the words you are desperately waiting to hear.

"Thank you for the meal. But you don't meddle with our marriage, it seems you didn't learn your lesson yet."

Satoru set down his utensils, leaving his food, and motioned for you to stand despite his mother's protest and grandmother's unforgiving gaze directed towards you. The meal is done. Another ruined meal with this neverending cycle that no one seems to end.

"Satoru." You tug your wrist from your husband's grip. He never stopped until both of you stand before his car. You could feel the shame of leaving abruptly devouring you. What would his mother say the next time you meet? "Satoru I..." You look at him but stopped at the grimness of his face.

His jaws clench, withholding the rage burning in his eyes. You could see the way he stare, so cold and ruthless that it was better to keep quiet or else you might aggravate him more. You hung your head low and took a step back but it only seem to make him angrier.

"Get inside." He opened the door to his car, closed it, and turned around to the driver seat. Motioning for the guard to open the gates as the two of you leave his mother's house.

You are reminded of what you are expected to fulfill as his wife.

To fulfill the duty of providing Gojo Satoru with his heirs as much as you could. The mere thought of it brings a shiver to your spine. A broodmare in simple words. No matter what you achieve it will never change the fact you need to give him children to satisfy the people around you. You desperately want that as well. A child to love, a child to take care of. A family with your husband even if this marriage in the first place was a matter of strengthening your yakuza clans rather than genuine love. You don't care because for once, you can finally have a family of your own.

You have a husband that takes care of you. A home that has the warmth you have been desperately praying for.

But it seems the heavens never liked to grant your wishes.

You watch Satoru's inked-covered back flex as he works his way around the kitchen, wearing only cotton shorts with a towel around his neck, fresh out of the shower. Unlike the morning he wears a suit and the holster of his gun to work, he wore almost nothing in the confines of your home. So trusting to show his scars and let you in his world.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You've been married to this yakuza gang leader for almost six months. The callousness of his palm whenever his touch hovers on your skin reminded you he touches guns, not roses. His vivid tattoos scream danger. His rough kisses told you he isn't used to fragile things, he's rough and ruthless.

"C'mere, you haven't properly eaten lunch." He called, setting down a plate of grilled salmon and fried rice on the plate on the kitchen counter.

 It's so strange that this ruthless man everyone fears and respect for his cruelty is the only man to treat you with genuine care. It's as if the marriage wasn't borne out of contract. You watch Satoru scoop the rice for you and pour you water and after he also made his plate but before making sure you get the larger portion of the salmon he cooked.

Or perhaps it really wasn't...

Satoru is not a saint. You can count the times you saw your husband shed blood remorselessly. But for you, the ruthless yakuza leader would peel clementines with one look from your hungry eyes. Satoru is the man that if you asked him for a marble he'd give you a diamond. 

"It was negative." You started. Regretful for bringing this up when you're just enjoying each other's presence. But you were never one to hide this kind of thing from him when he has every right to know.

Satoru fell silent. He tilted his head as you slowly lean to see his reaction. He pursed his lips and continued peeling the clementines and putting them on your plate.

"Is that why you're upset enough to drown yourself with work?" Satoru effortlessly grabs your waist and put you between his open thighs, your chest pressed against his, your nose touching as he continued staring at you even at such a close distance, his gaze robbing you of precious oxygen.

You can't answer him at all. Bothered by his eyes boring into your soul, and the heat of his body leaving you flushed and squirming in his hold. It was too much to handle at once. You were opting to dive into your husband's neck, pressing yourself as close as possible as if it could help, but you didn't have the time to. He lifted your chin but never urged you to look at him when you couldn't.

Your eyes fell on the coffee that has gone cold. Satoru followed your gaze and move the mug away from your eyes until your gaze finally landed on him. There's a complicated look you cannot name whirling in Satoru's eyes that you cannot name.

"I can't have you getting sick over that baby girl." Satoru exhaled, brushing your hair out your face. Watching your lips wobble and sight off the tears in your glossy eyes. So brittle, so precious.

Pampering you with his words and touch has always been a pleasure to him. Building you up and seeing you fall apart from his touch is ecstasy for his dark heart. It's so twisted yet right at the same time knowing he's the only one you allowed into your heart to be this close.

To feel the heave of your chest against his. The way your eyes quiver under his stare. To hold your hand when your fingers start to fidget. His heart preens at the fact he's the only one who can see you like this. To have every piece of you, so close. And he would do anything to cherish you, anything. So why would his wife have such a somber face etched on her beautiful face?

"It's reasonable to question this Satoru. Everyone is asking for a child from you and me." You shake your head, still unable to meet his eye. No one really knows how your dream haunted you like a nightmare in daylight.

"I already told you, Baby. We don't need to rush. I don't want any of our family meddling with us." He sighed and paused a bit. "Can we just have time for ourselves first? I want to have you right now, just you and me Baby. I want my wife first, can we have that hmmm?" The patience his blue orbs hold is almost heartbreaking. 

Satoru looks dark and serious as he waits for your answer. This time his hand brought your palm to his cheeks while the other held your back to balance you on his thighs. It's around you that his rough edges may be a little coarse but you never complained. 

"If my family's opinions are straining you, I'm sorry-"

You shake your head vehemently. Cupping his cheeks and shushing him. Your head fell as beads of tears started falling. The way he is handling things is breaking your heart. It feels too reassuring. Too good that it's almost surreal. What did you do in your past life to even deserve a husband like him?

"I'm sorry too. For forcing this when I know we're not ready yet." You bit the insides of your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for my selfishness 'Toru." You said quietly, shame creeping down your spine.

Satoru shushed you. Bringing the back of your palms to his lips. Pressing kisses all over your hand as he brushes the unshed tears from your lashes.

"I want a child with you too. I want to be parents with you. We will be, I promise you." Satoru stroked your head. "I just want you to know that I don't listen to people's opinions when it comes to you. This is our marriage Baby, and you will be my first all the time."

Satoru hates it. Hates it when you beat yourself up over uncontrollable things. Hates it when he sees you upset when he vowed to only make you happy by his side. Hates when you're the reason for his happiness but he's the cause of your distress.

No. It's not even him. It's the people, irrelevant people in your marriage around you.

"Even before I married you, I didn't think about our groups or the expectations of my family. I think of you... if you wanted to be my wife. If you wanted us to be a family." He kisses your palms. Your heart feels like being pinched by his confession. "I knew how much you wanted to build a family. And I wanted to be in that world you're going to have, with or without a child we're still family Baby, you and me." He licked his lower lips and tilted his head. It's as if he's probing what's in your mind. He gently kissed your tears away. Feeling your heart settling down with the assurance he laid for you.

When your mother gave birth to you, was she happy? Maybe, maybe not. You have always reminded her of a failed marriage, her nightmare. Perhaps, that's why she is desperate to keep you out of her life. Away from her, and her family.

Your eyes landed on a photo frame on your working desk. A boy and a girl, somewhere around six years old sporting the same hair as you, but their eyes are shining, filled with innocence and life. You didn't know that your family has a history of twins.

"A twins huh?" You imagined a young boy and girl with Satoru's eyes and your hair. That would be perfect.

"Madame?" Miwa interrupted your train of thought. "The Boss is here to pick you up from work."

"Already?" You picked up your bag and rushed to the elevator.

Miwa was quick to follow. You can't be more thankful for the witty and efficient girl Satoru arranged for you as your assistant.

"Been waiting for you." Satoru greeted you with his signature boyish grin, leaning on his Ducati with a helmet on his arm. His suit is replaced with an all black rider outfit.

You notice he was alone in the basement. Miwa also offered to take your bag and left the two of you alone. Satoru strode to you, adjusting the helmet on your head, taking off his biker's jacket, and wrapping it around your torso. That leaves him with his black tee shirt, hugging your husband's body like a sleeve exposing his beautiful tattoos.

"Is this safe?" You breathe.

Satoru just smirked and adjusted his gloves, helping you get on the back of his big bike as he revs up the engine, tucking the stand back.

"You just hold on to me and don't ever let go. Got it, Baby?" The engine sound made him lean over your ear and brought your hands to wrap around his waist. "Got it?"

You nodded and sigh, placing your cheek on Satoru's back. Your grip around Satoru tighten as he tore through the busy night road of Tokyo, letting the wild sound of his bike and the wind drown everything around but your body pressed close to his hot back.

Perhaps... A little more time, a time just for the two of you doesn't sound so bad after all.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby  @aeanya  @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[frvnkcastles]

hiii!! i hope you're okay ❤️ so i was thinking of a frank x reader where she's asthmatic but hasn't had an attack for a long time, so they're watching a movie and she has a very strong attack and he helps her and comforts her.

thank you, i love the way you write ❤️❤️❤️❤️

FEEL THE RUSH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You have an asthma attack, and Frank is there to help.

Warnings: Asthma attack, language

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Anon I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this! Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this <3

Maybe you had been foolish to sink into the false sense of hope and security — maybe you had been foolish to think another attack simply wasn’t going to rear its head and you could live your life without care or worry about the air in your lungs.

Truthfully, it was something you always had to deal with, always a part of your daily routine that you had just grown accustomed to. Being asthmatic could be a real pain in your ass, but for the most part, it was manageable. For the past months, you had been spared of an attack, and you almost forgot how constricting and terrible it could be.

You liked to think your sudden lack of symptoms had something to do with the man by your side. He seemed to make everything better, after all. You had been friends for a long time, but a few months back, he had taken the plunge and kissed you — with caution, as not to take your breath away entirely. He had worked backwards, first cradling your face in his massive hands and clashing his perfect lips against yours, noses brushing together as he handled you with ease and effortlessness… and only after, he shyly backed away, wondering out loud if you’d do him the honor of joining him for a date. He had enchanted you entirely and you had agreed in a heartbeat, and ever since then, you had been inseparable.

He spent a lot of time at your apartment, and it already felt like he belonged there, like he was what turned it from a house into a home. You were completely comfortable with the burly, hulking man who fixed your furniture and learned the contents of your kitchen cabinets in an effort to cook you dinner even without asking. In fact, you were head over heels for him and his tendency to always have his hands all over you, sometimes in a protective manner, sometimes hungry and needy to feel your body under his calloused fingertips. He made every day a dream come true, heaven on earth, and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

So, it was easy to forget about your health concerns. He was the concerned one, always looking out for you and making sure you were alright, and you were just happy to have him.

But of course, bliss could only last so long, and you were pulled back into reality on a seemingly uneventful Friday evening, your body nestled against Frank’s with his strong arms around you and your fingers drawing patterns on the back of his cut-up hand. It was all so domestic, something he never thought he’d have again, and in that moment, you were both undoubtedly content.

It started out with a wheeze, a shallow attempt to inhale air into your system. Frank was immediately alerted, well-aware of your condition, and with a cocked eyebrow, he pushed himself off of the soft cushions enough to give you a knowing look full of worry and willingness to jump into action.

”I’m okay”, you managed, but he didn’t settle back into the couch, only continued to observe you, and his instincts proved to be right — in the next second, panic erupted on your face and you felt the familiar, suffocating grip, making it difficult for you to breathe. Your chest tightened and you burst into a fit of coughs, sitting up while struggling to haul air into your lungs.

Without a word, Frank got up from the couch. ”Where’s your inhaler, sweetheart?” he asked with a clear and firm voice, trying to stay calm and rational as he quickly glanced around the living room.

”The—the bedroom?” you theorized, silently cursing yourself for neglecting your inhaler. It had been months since you had had a full-blown attack, and days since you had needed to prevent smaller symptoms with the device, and in the rush of the moment, it was hard to think back to where you had left it.

Frank wasted no time, making his way to the bedroom

where you heard him ransack every nook and cranny. You tried to control your wheezing and regain composure, but it seemed the symptoms were only getting worse with every passing second, and it became blatantly obvious that the inhaler alone was going to offer any relief. It scared you, the thought of it being utterly lost, but before you could start panicking any further, Frank was running back to your side.

”Got it. Fucker was in the bedside table”, he announced gruffly, seating himself next to you on the couch while handing over the inhaler. As you desperately brought it up to your mouth, Frank caressed your cheek and wiped astray strands of your hair behind your ear. ”It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be better soon”, he spoke with reassurance, swallowing thickly as he watched you slowly get the upper hand.

As you began breathing easier, he smiled, the feeling of being useless subsiding. He hated not being able to help, even if realistically he knew there was nothing else he could do. ”Attagirl. You did so good, sweetheart”, he praised you, leaning in to kiss your temple before lowering his face to your level to meet your stare. ”Feelin’ better?” his voice was soft as he addressed you, care in every word.

You nodded, the panic in you melting away as you gripped the inhaler with a vice-like hold. ”I’m never losing track of this thing again”, you grumbled, making Frank chuckle as he gently pulled you into his arms and stroked your back.

”Y’know I hate bein’ so fuckin’ useless. Just wanna make it better for you”, he lamented, and with a tender smile, you hugged him tight.

”You’re not useless. I would’ve been screwed if I had to start looking for the inhaler myself”, you reminded, and supposing you were right, Frank nodded.

”Fair ’nuff, sweetheart. Lemme know if you ever need anythin’ else from me, aight? I’m here for ya”, he swore, and full of love for the man and his big heart, you withdrew from his embrace just enough to place a careful kiss right on his lips. He returned the fervor, greedily kissing you back, almost losing his cool as he ached for more of you.

”Thanks, Frankie. You’re my hero”, you grinned, half-joking, and with a snort, he rolled his eyes.

”You’re your own hero, pretty girl. ’M just the lucky asshole who gets to admire you in all your glory.”

[unnaturalequilibrium]

undefined number of favourite #mafin scenes [the letter]

In another life I was for sure an anemic Victorian with a nervous disposition, but who doesn’t swoon at a shapely ankle and is there anything hotter than a woman not suffering the throes of consumption? So sometimes a chaste hand hold, a quick finger lock, comes with more eroticism than one woman can handle. That woman being me, me and all of my Victorian alter egos.

Look, I get that a lot of the softness between same-sex couples on screen comes through because of a fear of how a straight audience view that kind of affection and our sexuality if it’s “too” explicit. Once we were censored, now we are tempered. But unfortunately I’ve grown up with this shit, it’s not new and as a result I’ve been conditioned into having those subtle scenes hold as much power over me as the more graphic ones, sometimes even more so. When a kiss is out of the picture - a touch can come with the gravitas of a love scene. All those formative years spent in the celluloid closet breathes a lot of unexpected life into even the attempts of suffocation. Fucked up yes, but the honest truth. 

So this is a lingering touch that shouldn’t mean anything. They’re just exchanging a letter. From one hand to the other. This is an act of mundanity performed by humans since the invention of the shopping list. We made fertility goddesses out of clay, domesticated animals, rubbed sticks together to make fire and we’ve exchanged written messages for eons. Well kind of. It’s nothing spectacular, except for when that single accidental touch lights an entire nervous system on fire. Burning expectations to smithereens and leaving a panting desperate animal confronted with its own yearning. Fingers entwined and a touch that lingers for one second too long, but in that second there is a galaxy of possibilities and a good handful of them end in tribadism. 

Which is why Marta immediately feels the need to bring up her husband, as if  somehow that wedding band on her finger could act as a leash restraining that snarling little beast of sapphic lust simmering between them. Despite her desperate attempt at “Heel homo!” the aftermath of the surge between them lingers in the air like ozone after a violent thunderstorm, and there is no way to put that thing back in its box. Even as they let go the bond and the physical reaction exists between them, because even if their minds aren’t there yet their bodies have already anchored to each other. This one, this is the one that I want. I’ve got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control, cause of the power you’re supplying, it’s…Wait..Nevermind, got sidetracked by visions of black spandex and a time when smoking was cool.

I mean, it’s some Vicotrianesque chaste nonsense bullshit, but a good hand hold or finger touch will never stop making me a little weak in the knees. This was top tier. 

[foolishlovers]

“He has beautiful freckles and enjoys watching films, he listens to my occasional rambles and his voice dazzles me every time he says my name and he is–“

“Walking straight ahead to you right now,” Nina interjected, nudging him with her elbow, eyes bolting to – good Lord – Crowley and – was that Anathema Device – marching towards the reception desks, both dressed from head to toe in black.

Aziraphale was wearing one of his finest blue button-down shirts, freshly ironed and smoothed over a dozen times – and he was starting to sweat in it, feeling the collar’s cottony fabric stick to his neck.

Perhaps they should have invested in an air conditioning system after all.

chapter 3 of my library au is up, aziraphale is making moves and crowley is dreaming of domestic sundays. among other things. they're both ridiculously crushing on each other.

all forms of support are so appreciated <3

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Fruit of Her Loins

Summary: The Queen of Cordonia faints and is taken to a hospital. There, they shut down her last hope.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Mentions of domestic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Words: 1000

Notes: Evil Liam. I like it.

Riley remains laid down with her eyes closed while inhaling long breaths of air. In, out. In, out. One after the other, like her mother used to do back when she was just a little girl, back in that shithole she called home.

It works somewhat, the waves of nausea declining slightly, she does not feel as dizzy as she did earlier that morning, but the feeling that something is very wrong with her only grows with each second. Something that can ruin her only sliver of hope out of this life.

A hand lands on hers and she opens her eyes again. She slowly and steadily turns her face to the side, meeting her husband’s eyes. He gives her a reassuring smile, gracing his features with unabashed ease. It is, ostensibly, a sweet gesture of him, but she cannot find the energy to return it, she does not want to pretend anymore. There is something wrong, something very wrong, bringing her to the edge.

The Queen of Cordonia is, officially, Orthodox Christian, having converted upon marriage, so she might as well pray to a god she is not really sure exists for a miracle she is quite certain will not come. She already suspects the condition that sent her to the hospital, the thought eating she up inside. All the times that Liam conveniently forgot to use condoms, the almost imperceptible way her birth control pills tasted slightly different than usual, his encouragement for her to work out more, the gross healthy diet he had imposed at home, the way he always came inside her.

Now Riley knows why. It feels so painfully obvious that she is almost angry with herself not to see it coming.

“Are you feeling any better?” The monarch asks, concernedly, while lovingly stroking her hair. “Do you need some water? Would you care for me to order some food?"

She shakes her head, slowly lifting herself up to lean against the bed's headboard. It was that weird sturdy plastic they usually have in places like this. For the best hospital in Cordonia, it felt awfully uncomfortable. Then again, she lived in a literal palace, and felt overwhelmed and restless there. It might just be in her nature, or it might be the company she keeps.

Liam hurries to help her, kind and accommodating as always, fluffing a pillow behind her back before pressing a kiss to her forehead. A shiver makes her body shake, exhaustion flooding her and she fights with herself just to keep her eyes open.

"I'm sure everything is fine.” He says, suddenly, and his wife notices how he struggles to keep an expectant smile off his face. “Don't worry, love."

Riley nods in response, not bothering to come up with a proper phrase. The feeling of malaise she has had ever since their wedding, the intuition of broken dreams and harsh awakenings ahead, increasing on the bottom of her stomach.

Cordonia is a very conservative country. It makes Greece, Turkey and Israel collectively blush in how truly traditional things are in a supposedly-modern Western nation. There is only at-fault divorce, communal property is held by the husband, the father has priority in custody cases. Money, influence and family connections make the justice system move, or stand infuriatingly still, as the case may be.

Not long after that, a doctor appears, accompanied by a nurse and Riley cringes at the sight of them. The professionals and workers at Cordonian hospitals scare her. They all wear a serious, almost robotic face, occasionally broken only by a sneer of undeserved superiority.

The doctor approaches the woman, stethoscope in his hand ready to hear her heart and lungs. “How’s the patient feeling now?”

“She’s better now, not feeling that weak anymore.” The husband answers in her place, a tinge of annoyance hitting her at his behavior. “What did the blood test show?”

The cold metal makes the queen flinch, but she keeps taking deep breaths until the doctor ends his examinations, trying to keep calm, lest she unwittingly gives them reason to keep her longer. He comes to stand in front of the bed, a sympathetic smile that does nothing to make she feel better on his face as he looks at his monarch.

“Everything is fine besides the sugar level being low, which is what caused the patient to faint.” The doctor explains, an air of detachment as he wipes the stethoscope with a flannel fished out of his pocket.

Liam squeezes her hand and Riley holds her breath. Both of them already know what is coming next.

“However, that’s completely normal in a pregnancy.” The medical professional concludes, placing his instrument around his neck again.

His words make the queen feel weak again and she can only be glad that she is already seated down. Her husband, in turn, has his face breaks into a huge grin, arms wrapping around her in a hug as his hand travels to her belly, remaining there.

Riley freezes, unable to think properly. She is pregnant. Of Liam.

The Queen of Cordonia is pregnant, carrying the next heir to the throne. A boy or a girl, it does not matter. She is now public property, her body and all the fruits of it belong to the public, now more than ever.

No, not the public. She is, yet again, chained to Liam, now more firmly than ever before.

The monarch parts from his wife to hold her face in a possessive kiss, ignoring the doctor who exits the room, leaving them alone.

“I am so proud of you, love. This is wonderful news.” He declares, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, I can picture the announcement already. I’m almost climbing to the rooftop and shouting it out myself!”

She tunes him out after that. Her stomach does a flip and she grips the sheets tightly, trying to control herself. She cannot panic, she cannot cry.

Her last hope is extinct. Riley will never be able to leave Liam.

*_*_*_*_*

TRR Masterlist

[cloudyswritings]

Living houses

Okay so I just saw a little comic with this idea and it inspired me a ton. Basically the idea is this, what if houses were living beings that had a symbiotic relationship with humans.

Intro:

First I think that living houses would almost certainly be the product of humans domesticating some other being. I like to imagine that in a world with living houses there was probably an initial predatory species like a mimic that imitated safe spaces where humans and other large terrestrial mammals could wait out harsh weather, they’d pick a good location, and as such there’d probably be several different species of these basal living houses that are all adapted to different harsh climates, though I imagine they’d originally be from a tropical location, or possibly somewhere in asia(most due to the caves and dramatic terrain). These original species would most likely mimic things like caves or hillsides that could be used for shelter.

So what exactly are they then? Plants? Animals? Fungi? At first I was naturally leaning towards plants, but then I started thinking about barnacles. See barnacles are weird little freaks compared to basically all crustaceans, they’re the only crustaceans that evolved to be sessile and for ages naturalists thought they were some sort of mollusk(which they have far more in common with niche wise). In addition to thinking about barnacles I was also thinking about isopods(specifically because I was doing some maintenance on my isopods cultures), you see isopods can breathe on land because they have specially adapted gills, but they still do need to be kept relatively moist, that said these little fellows are everywhere including in some decently arid areas and places that have snow in the winter. All that said my version of living houses are a species of isopod that recreated the barnacles path to a sessile lifestyle and then grew absolutely massive on land.

Realistically the houses shouldn’t be able to grow as big as actual houses do, but I’d like to imagine that the species(before domestication) used their mimicry as a way to get around this. The houses would have opening specifically designed to funnel air down and over their gills, and because they were mimicking caves and the like their massive gills were still kept wet enough to allow respiration. Though this came with its own challenges and basal living houses are prone to fungal and bacterial infections because of the conditions inside of their bodies.

Additionally the creatures themselves are mostly contained inside their “walls” which are in reality a mix of chitin and a calcium carbonate skeleton like corals and sea snail shells. Some of their crucial organs(IE gills, digestive system, ect) are partially exposed, though this will be changed with domestication. Additionally these initial houses functioned a bit like pitcher plants or massive filter feeders, luring in large creatures and then trapping them inside their sturdy walls and digesting them with enzymes that are excreted, these are powerful enough to completely digest bone and general have a pleasant earthy aroma, this helps ensure that their next victims don’t notice anything is off.

Lifecycle of Living Houses:

So living houses(or rather the species before domestication) have a lifecycle that closely matches with that of barnacles and other crustaceans albeit with some isopod flavoring.

Egg/naupliar phase:

The first phase in the lifecycle of a living house, eggs are held inside a specialized cavity inside of the “walls” of a living house, this cavity is filled with a nutrient rich liquid that mimics the ocean. Specialized muscles inside of the house pump water to and from this cavity ensuring that it’s adequately oxygenated. Eggs are deposited into this cavity at the moment of fertilization and take anywhere from one year to three to hatch depending on the species. Once the eggs hatched and the young enter their naupliar phase more nutrients are pumped into the cavity and the young take several months to molt and develop before entering their next phase. At this point the young still look like the nauplius of any other type of crustacean.

Wandering/Larval stage:

During this stage the larvae develop their front legs into a pair of ridged cutting tools, the use of these is not unlike that of an egg tooth in reptiles. Larvae will cooperate together to saw their way out of the walls of their parent. Any unable to escape will quickly drown and be reabsorbed by their parent. Once they leave the safety of their parents body larvae officially enter the wander phase, their legs have been greatly elongated and their metabolism much more closely matches that of a warm blooded animal, enabling them to cross great distances in search of a place to settle down and metamorphose into adult living houses. During this phase the young will hunt small prey using their modified forelimbs and undergo several molts until they’re roughly 50 pounds.

Adulthood:

Once a larval living house has found an ideal location it attaches itself to a hard surface and begins to build its first walls, this is generally done by extracting minerals from the environment using its modified forelimbs. Once a living house is completely enclosed it’s body breaks down in much the same way a caterpillars does inside of a cocoon, once this metamorphosis is complete the living house is considered an adult and can no longer move. Its eyes will be completely dissolved at this point, however new photoreceptors do develop around the opening of the house, ensuring that it can detect when prey items enter. It may take as much as half a century for a living house to fully develop, though they like lobsters never truly stop growing. The majority of chambers in a living house will have been added by its third decade and most species will be capable of reproduction by their fourth decade. Additionally living houses don’t truly have an upper limit to their lifespan, though those that live past 200 years generally stop reproducing at that time. Allegedly the labyrinth from Greek mythology was an example of a truly ancient living house.

Reproduction:

Living houses face something of a dilemma when it comes to reproduction, in the ocean it’s easy enough for sessile animals to release gametes into the water and have them fertilize by chance. On land though things aren’t quite so simple. Living houses have come up with quite a unique way to ensure they still reproduce. When a living house reaches sexual maturity it will release pheromones into the air(when this occurs varies by species, but the Primal Living House, native to african grasslands seems to be triggered into releasing these pheromones by thunderstorms and specifically the scent of petrichor). These pheromones will eventually find their way to another living house which will then begin producing specialized eggs that hatch and develop into underdeveloped larvae within the course of a week. These larvae have no mouth or digestive tract but do have extremely fine tuned senses that allow them to follow the scent of pheromones. These specialized larvae will then carry a small package of sperm from the adult living house to its possible mate. These larvae are made in massive quantities and provide a significant opportunity for predators. Living house spawning events are similar to the emergence of cicada broods and happen infrequently. Most of the larvae will be consumed by predators before they succeed in their mission, those that succeed will die immediately after fertilizing.

Humans and Domestication:

The story of how humans domesticated the living house is much like the story of how humans domesticated other species. For some reason or another a living house didn’t eat a group of humans who moved in, eventually the humans noticed that their food scraps and bones disappeared when placed in certain parts of the “cave” they were living in and they continued doing so because it prevent scavengers and disease in their tribe. They were inadvertently feeding the house, and as such it had far more consistent food source than its competitors, this translated to reproductive success. The humans eventually realized what they’d been living in and decided to continue living there, additionally they ensured that the reproductive larvae of their house reached others thus beginning the domestication process. This story related itself among many other human groups until the ancestors of the domestic living house split off from the primal living house. From there traits were selected for in much the same way it was done in dogs, albeit over the course of many many human generations because of the slow lifecycle of the houses. Eventually the spread of humans out of Africa saw a further spread of living houses as well, and the domestication of some of their smaller and stranger ancestors(mimics of various varieties).

it’s important to note that humans could and did still build traditional houses as well. They were well aware of the threat the living houses could pose and as such only some groups of humans began the domestication process with others simply building their own homes.

(I have way way more to say about worldbuilding and these guys in general but I think I’ll save that for the next post! As always I’d love to here what y’all think of this idea, it kinda ran away with my imagination truthfully.)

[tekomarinellc]

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[nonbinarygamzee]

What about Terezi thoughts?

the thing with terezi, for me, is that she is quite possibly the only character to rival the level of unease and distrust i have for interpretations as i do with gamzee, in all the opposite ways. she was really important to me in the early days, because for all of the gripe i have about how it was ultimately handled, her story was always about her own guilt and attempts to reconstruct her own worldview because of that guilt, struggling with her own inability to justify herself because in ways she understands her own behaviors are rooted not in reality but in a position and expectation and place of power which she was born into. its so hard to talk about her, and really i feel like i am even more willing to go into the vriska stuff than i am the terezi stuff because as much as vriska conversations are complicated by the fandoms past (on either side of that debate) there is just an even more intense air of refusal to engage with terezis character assassination than anybody else....... which i guess makes sense, shes one of if not arguably the most frontal character, shes beloved weirdgirl, (mostly) unapologetic in her convictions. all i guess admirable traits if you are not like..... from my specific sphere of homestuck fans who have been worn down for all of those reasons. and yknow, a lot of vriska fans will disregard my opinions as inherently unserious and bad faith upon realization i like the clown, which sucks, but its mostly the terezi circles that have treated me like im personally committing some kind of violence by trying to discuss gamzees agency and the problems i have surrounding. what the comic did to these two together.

i guess that isnt really all that much About terezi but really i do think i have said most of the sweeping things i have to say about her as an actual character before. we are given this character who clearly does not have much awareness for the systems which lead her to her worldview, has little to no interest in being actually Fair (i mean come on even for the mess homestuck is her introductory interests in justice and murderstuck investigations are Meant to be read as her being clueless and on board with alternias laughably unjust judicial system. thats textual!) until she and people she knows are hurt by the actions shes up to then encouraged and taken part in. and that itself isnt an issue it is a pretty fascinating position for a child whos then being placed(/placing herself) into a role of an arbiter amongst an increasingly unstable group of isolated children, all of whom including her are very much products of the social conditions which they have been raised. the problem is that any real attempts to reckon with this stuff got shoved aside in preference of a shoehorned narrative about abuse that, if you were around and in the right places at the time, you KNOW how bad faith that shit was from inception. all of the interest in her guilt and insecurity about her own ability to think beyond that instinct that has been instilled into her that hinged on her own decisions and regrets are instead reconstructed to be all about shitting all over the plot device character who already didnt get to Be somebody, and was the subject of so so so many harassment campaigns that we know damn well hussie and the people working with him at the time were well aware of. to me the only way you can see any of that as a genuine attempt to touch on toxic relationships or domestic abuse are if you had no idea what kind of shit he (and the fans turned friends turned contributors) was doing, actively, at the time and it doesnt help that in releasing psycholonials he kind of just got to rewrite the narrative about how the fandom vitriol was spreading (and his extremely direct hand in that) or what was actually being said a lot of the time at all.

and like, yes i have an inherent distrust of people who arent going to examine all of the biases that go into presenting the character who is an amalgamation of all of hussies terrible biases wrt blackness and mental illness and addiction as the only of the kids who is somehow not just as much a victim of the antagonism of the narrative they exist within (while literally working under the child abuse demon!!!! i will say it again i will say it forever), duh, we know this, but i dont think you have to like or sympathize with gamzee to admit that shit was contrived and BAD. it isnt that strong, smart characters, especially girls, can never get abused or manipulated, or whateverrrr, but the second the story decides to reveal this detail is the start of a refusal to engage terezi as the intelligent and hyper-competent character we were initially presented with. her dialogue for literally the rest of the comic from that point on is a hollow, horrifying ghost of what she was before, any attempts to write her as unaware due to her emotional state more often just come across as a caricature of an emotional woman and the fact that it literally gets so bad that people were analyzing that shit at the time wondering if she wasnt also literally being psychically manipulated or barred from information in the same ways is, to me, proof enough of that. homestucks got this very very potent kind of misogyny going on with certain characters where they are allowed to be smart, often smarter than any of the men in the room, but not smart enough that theyre actually allowed to be right, and if they are right its usually as a result of the universe kind of.... dropping the info into their lap, moreso than deducing shit. and part of that is for sure i think that hussie is just better at telling than showing, but if you have READ any of their past works you also know that the idea of women being just generally stupider and flatter and lesser agents in their own stories is something he has always kind of had an issue with. im tired of stepping around it, im tired of stepping around the cop character having an investment in lynching imagery and then getting to be victimized by the manifesations of hussies discomfort and perception of black men! and being told im crazy by people who didnt have insight into how insidious so much of this all was at the time it was happening!!!! tired of not letting her BE flawed because people would rather avoid all of the discomfortttt. aaaand ok this is where im cutting it

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Prefixes- T

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Tadpole-: "[noun] the tailed aquatic larva of an amphibian (frog, toad, newt, or salamander), breathing through gills and lacking legs until the later stages of its development"

Tall-: "[adj] of great or more than average height, especially (with reference to an object) relative to width"

Talon-: "[noun] a claw, especially one belonging to a bird of prey"

Tangle-: "[verb] twist together into a confused mass; [noun] a confused mass of something twisted together"

Tangled-: "[adj] twisted together untidily, aka matted; [adj] complicated and confused, aka chaotic"

Tansy-: "[noun] a plant of the daisy family with yellow flat-topped flower heads and aromatic leaves"

Tattered-: "[adj] old and torn or in poor condition"

Tawny-: "[adj] of an orange-brown or yellowish-brown color; [noun] an orange-brown or yellowish-brown color"

Teasel-: "[noun] a tall prickly Eurasian plant with spiny purple flower heads"

Tempest-: "[noun] a violent windy storm"

Tern-: "[noun] a seabird related to the gulls, typically smaller and more slender, with long pointed wings and a forked tail"

Thicket-: "[noun] a dense group of bushes or trees"

Thistle-: "[noun] a widely distributed herbaceous plant of the daisy family, which typically has a prickly stem and leaves and rounded heads of purple flowers"

Thorn-: "[noun] a stiff, sharp-pointed, straight or curved woody projection on the stem or other part of a plant; [noun] a thorny bush, shrub, or tree, especially a hawthorn"

Thrasher-: "[noun] any of various American oscine birds (family Mimidae, especially genus Toxostoma) related to the mockingbird that resemble thrushes but have a usually long curved bill and long tail"

Thrift-: "[noun] a European plant which forms low-growing tufts of slender leaves with rounded pink flower heads, growing chiefly on sea cliffs and mountains"

Thrush-: "[noun] a small or medium-sized songbird, typically having a brown back, spotted breast, and loud song"

Thunder-: "[noun] a loud rumbling or crashing noise heard after a lightning flash due to the expansion of rapidly heated air"

Thyme-: "[noun] a low-growing aromatic plant of the mint family"

Tide-: "[noun] the alternate rising and falling of the sea, usually twice in each lunar day at a particular place, due to the attraction of the moon and sun"

Tiger-: "[noun] a very large solitary cat with a yellow-brown coat striped with black; [noun] used to refer to someone fierce, determined, or ambitious"

Timber-: "[noun] wood prepared for use in building and carpentry"

Tiny-: "[adj] very small"

Tree-: "[noun] a woody perennial plant, typically having a single stem or trunk growing to a considerable height and bearing lateral branches at some distance from the ground"

Toad-: "[noun] a tailless amphibian with a short stout body and short legs, typically having dry warty skin that can exude poison"

Todd-: "[noun] a male fox"

Tornado-: "[noun] a mobile, destructive vortex of violently rotating winds having the appearance of a funnel-shaped cloud and advancing beneath a large storm system"

Torrent-: "[noun] a strong and fast-moving stream of water"

Tortoise-: "[noun] a turtle, typically a herbivorous one that lives on land"

Trout-: "[noun] a chiefly freshwater fish of the salmon family"

Truffle-: "[noun]  strong-smelling underground fungus that resembles an irregular, rough-skinned potato, growing chiefly in broadleaved woodland on calcareous soils"

Tulip-: "[noun] a bulbous spring-flowering plant of the lily family, with boldly colored cup-shaped flowers"

Tumble-: "[verb] (typically of a cat) fall suddenly, clumsily, or headlong"

Turkey-: "[noun] a large mainly domesticated game bird native to North America, having a bald head and (in the male) red wattles"

Turtle-: "[noun] a slow-moving reptile, enclosed in a scaly or leathery domed shell into which it can retract its head and thick legs"

Twig-: "[noun] a slender woody shoot growing from a branch or stem of a tree or shrub"

Twilight-: "[noun] the soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon"

Twine-: "[noun] strong thread or string consisting of two or more strands of plants twisted together; [verb] cause to wind or spiral round something"

Twist-: "[verb] form into a bent, curling, or distorted shape; [noun] a thing with a spiral shape"

[tubetrading]

How Pipe Material Impacts the Efficiency of Your Solar System

As solar energy becomes increasingly popular, more households and industries are adopting solar systems as an efficient, sustainable source of power.  While the focus is often on solar panels and inverters, one often-overlooked component in the system is the pipe material used to transport heat in solar thermal systems.  The right pipes for solar system works can greatly impact the overall efficiency, longevity, and performance of the system.  For this reason, choosing the right piping is essential to maximizing your solar system’s potential.

In this blog, we will explore how the selection of pipe materials affects the efficiency of solar systems, the available options, and the importance of working with reliable pipes for solar system works distributors in Vadodara and pipes for solar system works distributors in Gujarat.

The Role of Pipes in Solar Systems

Solar systems are commonly divided into two types: photovoltaic (PV) systems and solar thermal systems.  Photovoltaic systems convert sunlight directly into electricity, while solar thermal systems capture heat from the sun to warm water or air for domestic or industrial use.  Pipes are essential in solar thermal systems, as they transport the heated fluid (usually water or antifreeze) from the solar collectors to storage tanks or directly to the point of use.

The performance of a solar thermal system heavily depends on the pipes' material.  Poor-quality pipes can lead to energy losses, increased wear and tear, and potential leaks, which reduces the system's overall efficiency.  On the other hand, selecting the right pipes can enhance heat transfer, reduce energy losses, and ensure the system operates effectively over time.

Importance of Pipe Material in Solar Systems

The selection of the right pipe material is crucial in a solar thermal system because of the high temperatures and pressures involved.  Pipes need to be durable, resistant to corrosion, and able to handle extreme conditions.  Here are some key factors to consider when choosing pipe materials for solar systems:

Thermal Conductivity:  Pipes with good thermal conductivity will efficiently transfer heat from the solar collector to the storage tank, reducing energy losses along the way.  Materials like copper and stainless steel are highly conductive, making them ideal for solar systems.

Temperature Resistance:  Solar systems often operate at high temperatures, especially in regions with abundant sunlight.  The pipes must be able to withstand these temperatures without degrading or losing efficiency.

Corrosion Resistance:  Since the pipes in solar systems are exposed to both heat and moisture, they need to be resistant to corrosion.  Corrosion can lead to leaks and system failures, so using corrosion-resistant materials like stainless steel or specialized polymers is essential.

Pressure Resistance:  The pipes in solar systems are subjected to constant pressure due to the circulation of fluid.  Materials like copper, stainless steel, and high-quality polymers are able to maintain their integrity under pressure, ensuring long-lasting performance.

Durability and Longevity:  Solar systems are designed to last for 20 to 25 years or more.  The pipes must be durable enough to withstand the rigors of time, environmental conditions, and wear and tear, ensuring the system remains functional throughout its lifespan.

Common Pipe Materials Used in Solar Systems

There are several materials commonly used for piping in solar thermal systems.  Each material has its advantages and disadvantages, depending on the specific needs of the system.

1.   Copper

Copper is one of the most popular pipe materials used in solar thermal systems, especially for domestic hot water applications.  It has excellent thermal conductivity, making it efficient in transferring heat from the solar collectors to the storage tank.  Copper is also highly resistant to corrosion, which ensures a longer lifespan for the pipes.  Additionally, copper pipes can withstand high temperatures and pressure, making them ideal for solar systems.

However, copper can be expensive compared to other materials.  It is also susceptible to theft, so additional precautions may need to be taken in certain locations.

2.   Stainless Steel

Stainless steel is another common choice for solar system pipes due to its high resistance to corrosion, excellent thermal conductivity, and ability to withstand extreme temperatures and pressures.  Stainless steel is particularly well-suited for larger solar thermal systems used in commercial or industrial settings, as it can handle the demands of heavy-duty applications.

While stainless steel pipes are more expensive than some other materials, they offer exceptional durability and longevity, making them a cost-effective choice over the system’s lifespan.

3.   PEX (Cross-Linked Polyethylene)

PEX pipes are made from a type of plastic that is flexible, durable, and resistant to corrosion.  PEX is often used in solar thermal systems for domestic hot water applications due to its lower cost and ease of installation.  PEX pipes are particularly useful in systems where the fluid temperature is moderate, as they can withstand temperatures up to 200°F (93°C).

However, PEX is not suitable for high-temperature or high-pressure solar systems.  It is best used in smaller residential applications where the conditions are less extreme.

4.   Polypropylene (PP)

Polypropylene pipes are increasingly being used in solar systems due to their excellent resistance to high temperatures, UV radiation, and corrosion.  They are particularly well-suited for large-scale solar thermal systems and solar district heating systems.  PP pipes are lightweight, easy to install, and can handle temperatures up to 248°F (120°C).

One of the main advantages of PP pipes is their environmental friendliness.  They are fully recyclable and have a low carbon footprint, making them an excellent choice for sustainable energy systems.

The Importance of Choosing the Right Distributor

Selecting the right pipe material is only part of the equation.  Working with a reputable pipes for solar system works distributor in Vadodara or pipes for solar system works distributor in Gujarat is equally important to ensure you receive high-quality products that meet your system's specifications.

Here is why partnering with the right distributor is crucial:

Quality Assurance:  A reliable distributor will supply pipes that meet industry standards for durability, thermal conductivity, and corrosion resistance.  This ensures that the materials you use will perform well under the demands of a solar thermal system.

Technical Support:  Distributors with expertise in solar systems can provide valuable advice on selecting the best pipe material for your specific application.  They can help you understand the advantages and disadvantages of different materials and guide you through the installation process.

Timely Supply:  A good distributor will ensure that you have access to the pipes and materials you need, when you need them.  Timely supply is critical for solar projects, where delays in sourcing materials can lead to extended installation times and increased costs.

Custom Solutions:  Depending on the size and complexity of your solar system, you may require custom piping solutions.  Reputable distributors often work closely with manufacturers to provide tailored products that meet the unique requirements of your system.

Working with Pipes for Solar System Works Distributors in Gujarat and Vadodara

In regions like Gujarat, where solar energy adoption is on the rise, finding a trusted pipes for solar system works distributor in Gujarat or Vadodara is essential.  Gujarat, known for its abundant sunlight and progressive solar policies, has seen significant growth in the installation of both residential and commercial solar systems.

Distributors in these areas understand the unique demands of solar projects in the region and can provide the necessary materials to ensure optimal system performance.  Whether you are installing a small domestic solar system or a large-scale industrial project, working with a local distributor ensures that you have access to the right products at competitive prices, backed by knowledgeable support and guidance.

Conclusion

When it comes to the efficiency and longevity of solar thermal systems, pipe material plays a crucial role.  The right choice of pipes can enhance heat transfer, prevent energy losses, and ensure long-lasting performance, while the wrong choice can result in inefficiencies and costly repairs.  By carefully considering the factors that impact pipe performance—such as thermal conductivity, temperature resistance, and durability—you can make an informed decision that maximizes the benefits of your solar system.

Working with reliable pipes for solar system works distributors in Vadodara and Gujarat ensures that you receive high-quality products and expert support tailored to your project’s needs.  As solar energy continues to grow in importance, paying attention to the materials used in solar systems will help ensure their efficiency and success for years to come.

[zs-projects]

Harnessing Solar Power in Bexley: A Sustainable Energy Solution

In today's world, where energy efficiency and sustainability are gaining importance, ZS Project helps people who are looking for Solar panels installation in Bexley as a dependable source of clean energy. By utilizing the sun's energy, solar panels save electricity costs and boost a green economy.

Benefits of Solar Panels

There are several benefits to installing solar panels in your house. To begin with, they greatly lessen your demand on conventional energy sources, which lowers your carbon impact. Long-term cost reductions are achieved by protecting homes from fluctuating energy prices through the shift towards renewable energy. Solar technology adoption is also financially feasible due to the numerous incentives and rebates offered by local and state governments.

Why Choose Professional Installation?

While the idea of installing solar panels yourself could be exciting, it's important to choose expert services. Installers with certification possess the necessary skills to accurately assess the energy requirements of your house and choose the best location to achieve optimum effectiveness. By making sure your solar panels are placed properly and by local laws, they maximize the effectiveness of your system and provide you with peace of mind.

The Future is Solar

Putting solar panels on your home will increase its value in addition to making a positive impact on the environment. Accept the power of the sun and become one of the many homeowners who are improving their financial situation and the environment at large.

An able to install your air conditioners installation for Domestic in Greenwich. Whether you choose energy-efficient split units or a central ducted system, our professional services address your unique conditioning requirements. Get in touch with us right now to find out how our ZS Projects can help you attain the highest level of interior comfort in Greenwich.

[paragonrobits]

THE LITTLE PEOPLE

I did some ideating for a race of tiny creatures based on brownies from folklore, a bit of Smurfs and specifically the whole Mouse World concept of smart mice living with scavenged gear unnoticed by humans (with Secret of Nihm being the biggest influence) and it wound up being interesting enough that i wanted to share!

----

A timid race that have historically dwelled in isolated regions and homes (often abandoned, but sometimes creating symbiotic relationships with the dwellers), surviving by avoiding being spotted by larger beings, and hunting large carnivorous insects given huge size and predatory ability due to magical mutation. The Little People have in turn survived through the use of careful traps, creative use of weaponry to defeat creatures deadly to them at their size, and domesticating animals to aid them. In particular, they regard cats as ferocious guardians and grave dangers (as cats are able to kill animals that pose a threat to them and are easily domesticated and loyal, but can just as easily be prone to hunting the Little People if not properly tamed), and in their cultures cats are seen similarly to dragons as totems of great power and peril at the same time.

The Little People resemble a fusion of bats and rats, with some feline attributes; they have somewhat long bodies with short but agile wings on their forearms, resembling a bat’s wings; the thumb of this wing has several flexible digits that function as fingers. Their body is covered in short and fairly thin fur, usually darkly colored, bear a prehensile tail up to about twice their overall height, and have short legs with opposable digits. Their bodies are heavily inclined towards flexibility and speed at the expense of strength, relying on stealth to avoid danger, cleverness to overcome threats that spot them, and speed to escape everything else.

They are extremely flexible, able to fit their bodies through any space their heads can fit through, and it is common for them to create a large number of boltholes and passageways in any place they have occupied for some time, and generally prefer to create large and expansive warrens suitable to their body shapes. They are also capable of flight, though extended flight is normally beyond them, they are still able to fly from a standing position without much need for assistance, and their natural agility makes them extremely fast in the air. These wings also work well for gliding, and they have taken to exploring in safe conditions; their settlements sometimes have large enclosed spaces specifically meant to exercise flight in safe conditions. Culturally, their wings are important to them, often associated with luxury and damage to them is seen as a sacrifice. Some leaders ritually have their wings clipped to indicate their dedication to the position, though this is seen as somewhat old fashioned. In the modern day, this will not cripple their flight, and the extremism involved has taken on a largely symbolic air.

They are a very clever people, with an innate skill for deductive reasoning and non-linear thinking processes. This, combined with a seemingly natural interest in mechanisms and systems of all sorts, gives them a skill at understanding machines of all sorts. They are known for tinkering, creating weapons and traps (with a special interest in sentry turrets and other stationary defensive weapons) from random objects found lying around. As part of other societies, they take a great skill as maintenance workers that go places where others can’t, fixing broken machines without anyone ever seeing them.

They are somewhat frail and easily frightened, often prone to poor nerves, being easily scared and panicked, though many of them have become noble warriors and fierce knights, standing in defense of others against vastly greater threats. Prior to being contacted by other species, they lived in hiding from all other beings, periodically working out bargains of mutual service with the dwellers of buildings they took as homes (usually involving the Little People cleaning it and maintaining machinery or performing chores in exchange for food and protection), as they enjoy working and are somewhat proud of their skills. In the modern day, many of them take on well respected jobs as tinkerers, machinists, and many have become illuminated by the light of Super Science, and create many wonderful devices. Others become warriors; while they have weapons of great use to creatures in their size range, those who choose not to escalate their fighting power generally fight creatures beneath the notice of other beings, acting as saboteurs and information gatherers for their allies.

Other Little People make use of a form of magical technology that has been of broad use among their people for long time; humanoid mechanized suits that a single Little Person (or a team, for particularly powerful or large models) can operate, chiefly from an operation center in the head or similar body part. These bodies sync up with the user, acting as an extension of their body, functionally allowing them to act on the same field as their larger friends… or even defend THEM from harm, as many of these bodies are enormously powerful, tinkered to have immense strength. Many of these models benefit from spiritual power of an operator, granting the user even greater strength magnified by their fighting spirit. And one of these Little People, willing to fight against beings that could crush them with an errant gesture, has spirit to spare.

These suits range greatly in appearance. The vast majority of them are obviously mechanized or artificial in nature, made of complex machinery; pressurized machinery abouts, whistling with magical pistons firing and gaseous materials wheezing as they move, their fragile sections covered in leather goods that gives them a strange appearance; their optics and illuminating bulbs glow with a frighteningly bright light, and they often shamble in an unsettling or frightening way, their clumsiness contrasted by their speed and power. Others are more refined and elegant, resembling a mechanized knight or miniature mech suit the size of a standard sapient. Others are more exotic still; some resemble vehicles, and others are designed in the shape of animals of symbolic importance to the Little People, such as spiders or cats. All generally bear powerful weapons, the finest constructions their people can offer and upscaled to a size that poses a danger not just to standard-sized sapients, but to a beast of any size.

Finally, some rare suits have been made to pass as living creatures that, to the Little People, have been ally, enemy or potential threats depending on context. These suits have never been common, passed along to communicate with the Big Folk that have generally been an uncertain quantity at best to them, and specific designs vary; some look like specific species (ranging from humans, to the many beings related to dragons, dinofolk, and the colorful horned beings the little folk often call Rainbow Bones due to their colorful blood and bones), while others don’t look like anything in particular but can pass for a living being of some sort. In the modern day their use has become a great deal more controversial amount the Little Folk, but have seen greater production and used to allow individuals to move more comfortably among their newfound larger friends. Many of these resemble a Little Folk upscaled to the size of a human; as a few Little Folk have undertook tutelage in gigantification magic to make themselves that large naturally, it can be difficult to tell the difference between them. (Punching one in the shoulder to check generally works, but is at best terribly rude, and at worst means you will be dueling them the following weekend.)

They have access to another notable technique. The Little Folk have long practiced a form of fusion; the magical ability to merge two or more beings into a larger and more powerful form, adding up all their respective skills and abilities, and vastly magnifying their power. Their particular variation is not notably different from most versions of this power, and generally look like a composite of the users involved in the technique, averaging out their individual characteristics (sometimes adding multiple limbs and eyes, with a great deal of discussion over what causes this). In their case, due to them being so much weaker than average beings due to their size, this is not a superhuman boost (though it is to their own standards), but allows them to potentially fight other sapient beings on a more even playing field. This technique was not widely practiced by the Little Folk prior to them becoming greater players on the multiversal stage, as it requires a great deal of interpersonal unity and personal power just to successfully fuel it, and more still to ensure a fusion that has skills to possibly contribute to a technique that is all about abandoning the secrecy and stealth that most of their history has required for them to survive. However, it still has a legendary air to it, as the few fusions made of up numerous people (at least five, and stories speak of many more) that grow far more powerful; these fusions are much larger than normal mortals, standing over a dozen feet tall; the truly rare fusions of many others stand even larger so, heroic leviathans in the legends of the Little People. These rare fusions bear enormous power by any measure, not just the Little Folk’s own, and are living embodiments of the willingness to pull together to survive. They are also notably far more grotesque, often sporting bulging tumorous swellings around their limbs, multiple heads or uneven numbers of additional limbs and eyes (sometimes in the wrong place) and body plans completely alien to their kind. The exact reason is not known, but it is apparently not a bad thing, but a sign of cooperating together exceeding the natural limits and designs of their people.

Perhaps most notably from a sociological point of view, these multi-person fusions have become much more common over time; the technique has gone from an obscure or secret ability to one taught fairly widely (though it is still considered a high-tier ability and not one to casually instruct), and with the greater feelings of security and power among the Little Folk, as well as newfound body modifications and cybernetic modifications making individuals much more powerful even without the use of magic, the resulting fusions are even more powerful. Some historians of their people think of the modern age as a heroic one, leading to wonders and friendships previously unimagined, but others fear that it will all come crashing down. Their history is not used to going too long without fear.

Then, this brings us to the matter of their culture.

Among themselves, they generally take on decentralized populations that spread out as they need, with most communities having a small group of leaders generally elected by common agreement. In rare situations a particularly wise leader is elected to be the leader of these councils, who has vetoing rights and whose word is given preeminence above all others; the leaders rarely are elected, and the position is not generally official, but when a hero rises from their people, taking on this position is usually a certainty as they gain respect and admiration. In the modern day, they still favor this decentralized method. Many settlements may work in tandem, and harmonious accord is widely prized. If a community chooses to go its own way or defy the will of the majority, they aren’t usually prevented from doing so (though particularly egregious or serious actions that may bring down harm on many of them, such as declaring covert war against a neighbor, may result in war towards the dissenting community), but it is understood that if they go their own way, they will generally do so without the aid of the others; more severe disagreements may result in the banning of trade goods or food supplies to the offending community.

Cultural customs vary very widely between each community, which is virtually a culture unto itself, though they have a number of similar traits; their languages come from a common family, for instance, which appears to have originated as a pidgin from surviving languages in the regions they originally came from. They have speculated their ancestors were not the survivors of those early cataclysms, but mutated animals that picked up on remnants of those bygone precursor’s ways. In a similar manner, they have a great deal of customs and ceremonial practices that they cannot readily identify the origin of, having adopted them over time from uncertain sources. These include a great deal of ceremonial outfits and an a highly ritualized approach to magical practice; there are dozens examples of both, diverging hugely from one community to another. Body modifications are also common, with jewelry and piercings being very common; in particularly their large ears may have a large number of rings (with rings scavenged from machines or Big Folk ruins traditionally holding greater prestige). Tattooing is quite common, with a few adding a new tattoo following a notable achievement; some particularly accomplished heroes may appear to be an unusual color, because they are so heavily tattooed it can be hard to see where their natural skin color begins or ends. More extreme modifications (such as wing membrane clipping, as noted previously) are unusual but not frowned upon nor unheard of.

They take a great deal of interest in the ceremonial use of abandoned goods and items; their use of jewelry reflects this. They regard older items, especially those predating them, as having a life all their own, and it empowers you to take them into your life, or at the very least shows respect to bygone craftsman. This sense of respect is an important aspect of their culture, and they approach this respect prominently; a Little People craftsman may be unwilling to replicate the mechanical design of a rival, for instance, but have a hard time clarifying why. In general, while they don’t have an issue making new things, they value reusing existing objects much more, and find the concept of simply throwing away things that can still find use to be abhorrent at worst, disrespectfully wasteful at worst. There tends to be a great deal of friction between them and more commercial social attitudes, as a result.

It may also be noted that as a result of this spiritual outlook towards reusing, there are three chief consequences; they have a high proportion of intelligent robots among them, necromancy is fairly common among their people, and the spiritual communing with objects happens frequently. In brief: because they take reusing old things so seriously, they are inclined to, when finding abandoned robots or nonfunctional ones, to repair them as best as possible with whatever they can find. This often results in ancient robots awakening after eons of apparent cessation of function to find a small society of little intelligent creatures fixing them. Often they are grateful for the aid, and travel with them, protecting them from harm; as many of these robots are abandoned war-bots created to destroy or kill anything in their path, this will offer them a great deal of protection as they now have a nearly unstoppable and loyal guardian; over time, many communities gather increasingly large number of these robots, to the point that many robots regard their places as safe harbors in times of anti-synthetic prejudice.

Necromancy applies to a somewhat similar degree. They often extend their attitudes towards material things towards the bodies of the departed; due to the dangerous lives they have traditionally had to live, those bodies were rarely in a condition fit for ceremonial burial, but doing so has often been uncomfortable or even insulting to the departed (whom generally would prefer that their old case could do some more good), abandoning a shell that could serve a further use. As such, the use of magic to infuse corpses with animating energy, which can then perform various tasks, has never been controversial among their people. They do not generally advertise this, currently because they are aware necromancy is controversial but also because few have been into a condition to ask until recently. The practice of corpse-crafting is passed down from teacher to student in informal guilds within communities, often linked to tinkering in general, and these bodies are usually heavily modified, often in grotesque ways to serve better purposes. Some have additional limbs installed or weapons (usually ranged, and placed on the forearms) integrated into their bodies, and it is extremely common for multiple bodies to be surgically grated together, to get the most use out of a smaller amount of shells. Creative modification of these bodies into powerful and hulking monsters (through the use of additional surgeries, chemical means of promoting mutation or growth of the reanimated flesh) is quite common, and the war-zombies of the Little Folk has become its own field of technical skill, and for those who fight them, these horrifying monsters are something to be remembered; even if they are usually far smaller than their enemies, this arguably makes them scarier as tiny, lightning-quick abominations packing dozens of incredibly powerful weaponry.

And as implied, much contact with them is quite recent, as for much of known history across most worlds, the Little Folk had little direct contact with larger groups of sapients, or even each other. For much of their history, they had no greater government or contact between their settlements beyond short-lived mail services that lasted only as long as relative safety in the area did.

Tinkering with various devices and experimenting with the properties of some magical materials that were naturally occurring in the regions they liked, this changed. The Little People devised a means of creating small towers (roughly four feet hight) that would be attached to tree heights and sheltered within caverns, and in someway always near a source of water. These towers, provided they were near water sources, can transmit a special frequency through water to other towers, and using other devices created by the Little People, communicate across vast distances with a minimum of effort involved and little risk to their frail communities. Within several generations, this allowed them to coordinate their efforts with each other, building semi-independent communities and homes ranging from complex structures built to move with the trees they were constructed upon, to mobile cities floating upon water. Now living closer than ever to established communities of sapients, they stuck to their traditions of secrecy and carefulness, using their encounter suits to avoid harm. Long-established traditions of chivalry, honor and aiding those in need took on a greater concern as they studied their neighbors and kept coming across people in need. Refusing to ignore them, they took to moving and secret and helping those people in need whenever possible. This gradually brought them to the attention of the Coalition of Many Worlds (at that point, in its infancy), and in time, people on both sides encouraged contact to be made, and the Little People cautiously joined them as the first people to genuinely treat them with respect, and they have remained a respected, though secretive, aspect of their newfound larger community.

It should be noted they have developed a kinship with several similar societies that have recently joined the Coalition; a number of allied kingdoms, independent fiefdoms, religious territories and other sub-factions that have shared an alliance in their own right prior to joining the Coalition. Distinctly they are all fairly small creatures similar to the Little People, generally descended from magically mutated animals that arose in the aftermath of the destruction of previous worlds. Some of these include slightly larger beings with the long tails of mice and the ears, legs and general body plan of rabbits, living in a small feudal society. These have, in turn, held a friendship with a quasi-aquatic group of otter/beaver beings that have hunted monsters and invaders for a long time.

To the outskirts of their combined territory is a range of mighty fortresses, traditionally seen as the domain of the largest and most powerfully built of these tiny beastfolk, with a great deal of strength by the standards of these people, and their bodies covered in stiff quills. Resembling a mixture of moles and hedgehogs (or perhaps echidnas) and with the power of a badger, these sentinels have fought constant invasions, with the three groups acting as a balance of powers that keeps each other alive, and have significantly improved their conditions through joining the Coalition.

The Little People have become part of that balance, taking up uninhabited woodlands as a gift, and have become to adopt a niche as the technically skilled craftsman among their newfound allies. Many, particularly those that find the larger beings intimidating or dangerous, have moved permanently towards this region, living their traditional ways of life in greater security than before.